|| EVELYN DE LUCA ||

I jolted awake, gasping for air. My scream nearly caught in my throat. My heart raced as I struggled to catch my breath, the vivid images of the nightmare still flashing before my eyes.

I was back in that dark basement, the coldness reaching for me like clawed hands. Those hollow eyes and their shadows pursued me. I can almost feel its cold breath on my neck as I run and run and fucking run to escape the grasp it holds me in.

I focused on steadying my breathing. It is just a bad dream—the shadow won't follow me here. I won't allow it.

I am okay.

I will be okay.

I chant that mantra, wiping the sticky hair away from my face. I am tucked safely in bed, the plush blankets cocooning me in their soft embrace. Even though the temptation to drift back to sleep tugged at my heavy eyelids, I reluctantly peeled them open.

It's so fluffy, goddamn. Fuck, I can live off my entire life lying on it.

But I needed to shake off the nightmare's icy claws, still digging into my psyche. Climbing out of the luxurious bed, I padded my way out of the room on unsteady feet, the remnants of the vivid dream still clouding my mind.

We're still on the plane. When I say this, imagine me high on weed because these men are rich like Richie Rich and have private jets.

I need my own plane, too.

To sleep in a fluffy bed, maybe?

Oh, to have such riches! A wistful sigh escaped my lips at the thought. As I entered the main sitting arrangement, the two men halted their hushed conversation to glance my way.

“You're awake?” The older man, my very dearest grandpa, asked, a smile creasing his features.

If I hadn't witnessed the barely-concealed malice he had directed at the driver earlier, I might have mistaken him for a kind-softy-teddy-boo grandfather.

I suppressed a derisive snort at the memory. Is it not the driver's fault that I walked with my shoelace untied?

Is it?

“Nope, I'm just sleepwalking, old man,” I deadpanned, watching as an embarrassment flush spread across his neck. He regarded me with a mixture of disbelief and grudging amusement.

“How much longer until we land?” I asked, dropping gracelessly into a seat across from them.

I shifted, trying in vain to relieve the ache in my back from my awkward pose. Both of them narrow their eyes at me as I struggle to find a position until I find one. I slouched lazily, legs splayed inelegantly. I sit with a strange angle where my back would ask for mercy, but I am too comfortable giving it to her.

“What?” I snapped when I noticed their pointed stare. They quickly averted their gazes.

“We'll be landing in about thirty minutes. Then it's just a forty-minute drive home,” Foty answered tonelessly.

“Well, how about we properly introduce ourselves?” Grandpa suggested. I nodded because we don't have anything else to do.

It's better than to die in silence for thirty minutes and mull over how they suddenly popped into my life and all the family cliches.

“As you already know, I'm Evelyn,” I began, “and unfortunately, I don't have an official biography prepared for a formal introduction. So you have to settle with this?” I gave a tight-lipped smile, feeling like a bit of a petty child.

They still don't know they just got the custody of Satan's heir.

Two days? That seems like too excessive a time to break their glamorous, caring facade. I know that as soon as they discover that I am not their docile little princess, it'll be over. But I'm genuinely interested to know how long this charade will truly last.

Grandpa let out a hearty laugh before speaking up. “You remind me so much of young Alex,” he said fondly, glancing between me and his son.

“As I'm sure you've gathered, I'm Victor De’Luca and have the honor of being your grandfather. If this stubborn man gives you too hard a time as your father, you come to me,” he said with a playful glare in Foty's direction.

“Good to know. I'll be sure to bring a written complaint straight to you if needed,” I replied with a mock salute and grin.

No, thank you very much.

I am fully capable of handling myself.

“I'm Alex. I'm thirty-two years old, and I'm your legal guardian and father." Though his words came out cold and detached, for a fleeting moment, his eyes revealed a glimmer of inner turmoil before shutting off again like drawn curtains.

I can feel him distant-ly. It is as if a storm raged within his mind, with conflicting emotions battling for control. But he had mastered the art of concealment, his face now an impassive mask that gave no glimpse into the chaos inside. Like mine.

Only in that brief, unguarded instant had the facade cracked, hinting at the depth of feeling and anguish roiling beneath the surface. The rest remained locked away, hidden behind those jaded eyes. Vacant and empty, unwilling or unable to display what's within. I quickly averted my eyes to my lap.

The cold sensation glides through my veins and invisible hands wrapping around my neck. I ignored it.

“So who else is at home? Please don't tell me there are any bully step-siblings or stepmothers I need to watch out for. That would be too cliche,” I joked.

Foty nearly choked at my blunt words, shaking his head before replying sternly, “I'm not married.” His trademark death glare bore into me, but I detected no real malice behind it.

“What a shame,” I said with an exaggerated pout. He is too handsome. like too handsome.

Of course, it's a clone of my genes, if you're wondering.

“So, how was life for you back there?” Grandpa asked gently.

“Pretty much normal, like every teen?” I replied, my voice lilting up at the end in a poor attempt to mask the utter chaos that is my life. Though I tried to play it cool, my words came out more as a question than a statement.

“Seeing how many times you get arrested and school suspension, that isn't described as normal,” Foty said, his eyes narrowing at me.

It was pretty messed up, but they don't need to know. I had seen more in my fifteen years than most people see in a lifetime. The arrests, the school suspensions, the late nights crashing on streets to avoid going home—it is nothing compared to what I went through five years ago.

My life is anything but normal. But I am not about to bare my soul to these strangers. They didn't need to know about the bruises under my clothes or the gnawing hunger in my belly on days when there was no food left at home.

I still feel that ache even when I carry no scar. It's there, itching deep in my bones.

“What? I'm innocent; I didn't do anything; they're just so obsessed with me to put me in trouble,” I insisted, feigning ignorance.

Inside, I seethed at his indulgence in my life out of nowhere. If only he knew what I went through. But I am not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing my pain.

He just shook his head, like he is already in disappointed old-father mode. I wanted to scream at him that I don't need his disapproval.

I am just trying to survive. Before I could open my mouth to defend myself, the flight announcement came over the intercom, sparing me from further interrogation.

I sank back into my seat, exhaustion seeping into my bones. I am so tired of fighting all the time and pretending. Living but dead inside.

It's more of a chore than a livelihood.

All I want is one day of peace. But I knew that wasn't likely anytime soon. So I steeled myself for the next scuffle of new life, praying it could be the one I would live through without losing too much.

Holy mother, fucking shittin'!!

I gasped in awe as the sprawling mansion came into view, its magnificence unlike anything I had ever seen.

“Did you guys rob the king's crown or something?” I quipped, taking in the perfectly manicured gardens and imposing marble pillars.

“What exactly is it that you do for a living?” I questioned them, eyeing their designer suits and polished shoes. They stiffened almost imperceptibly before answering smoothly, without missing a beat.

“We run a successful family business,” Foty replied vaguely.

“Oh, I see,” I murmured, realizing I wouldn't get anything more specific.

The sun had just set, leaving behind a chill that seeped through my thin t-shirt. I shivered, cursing myself for not having the foresight to change after escaping from that dank prison cell. I probably looked like a ragamuffin standing next to these impeccably dressed and imposing men.

More like a homeless kid.

As we entered the lavish foyer, I felt a knot in my stomach. I already feel nausea and anxiety creeping up. And then meeting my six uncles seems like another disaster.

Oh, I forgot to mention that this grandpa here had sprouted a factory of half a soccer male team in the house.

God, if they're anything like these two, then God help me. I'm walking myself into death.

Why couldn't I have inherited some of my father's height? Being 5'2" puts me at a distinct disadvantage with this crowd.

I don't feel like God's favorite child.

The interior is just as beautiful as the exterior, decked out in rare antiques and priceless artwork.

I had been to a place like this once before, but it felt more like a gilded prison back then. My own personal hell.

I shook off the dark memories. I followed Foty and Grandpa as we walked deeper into the mansion, my shoes squeaking on the polished marble floors.

“Boys, we're home!” Grandpa shouts as I stand frozen in place. The door crashes open, and thunderous footsteps boom through the house. I roll my eyes internally—I just need this day to end already.

“Oh my god, she's so freaking cute!” Before I can react, a hulking body crashes into me, nearly knocking me over.

What the fuck?

I'm suddenly twirling through the air like a ragdoll, clutched in this stranger's arms. What the hell, dude?! I hissed silently as pain shot through my side, where I was recently stabbed by my dearest mommy.

My arms pinned to my sides, I harshly pinch the boy's arm, my stubby, blunt nails useless for scratching.

He squeals like an angry cat denied its milk. Dropping me quickly but gently, he cries, “Owww, you punched me!” His big, soft gray eyes are similar to Grandpa's.

“You mean pinched?” I correct with a glare.

“She's definitely Alex's kid,” a blonde guy laughs, nudging the overexcited boy aside.

Jeez, is it that obvious? I muttered with a roll of my eyes, but apparently everyone has heard it.

Some of them chuckle at my misery, while Foty cracks a slight smile.

Damn, way to make myself look like a lame doofus over nothing. The flush ran across the tip of my skin as I smiled sheepishly at them.

“Boys, introduce yourselves,” Grandpa ordered sternly, guiding me to the sofa with a hand on my shoulder.

I choose to sink into a single chair alone. The boys, or more like giant men, scatter around us.

“I'm Aaron; I'm 18, too young to be your uncle, but I swear I'm going to be your favorite uncle, 'cause I'm the fucking coolest in here,” the boy who is almost dancing on his toes declared first, his words earning him a swift smack from the blonde man beside him.

“Language,” the blonde man snapped, scowling in disapproval.

Like people in this century don't start swearing from birth itself?

“I'm Xavier, I'm 26, and I'm glad you're home, princess,” the blonde one said warmly, a genuine smile lighting up his face as he regarded me with so much care and affection.

He isn't faking it. It's genuine. ‘Cause I can feel fucking tingling on my skin due to his emotions.

Home? I never had one, but despite the ugly feeling of longing sinking its claws into me, I smiled back at him genuinely. This seemed to make his smile grow even brighter.

“I'm Nicholas; I'm 21; I'm the older twin; you can call me Nick.” The one who had been sitting silently with a book tucked under his arm spoke up at last.

Nerdy. He flashed me a quick smile, which I returned.

“I'm Luciano, his twin,” the other twin grumbled, sounding completely disinterested as he glared at me coldly.

Bro, who pissed at your dinner? I glared back, matching his hostility.

“And just don't come to me if anything happens,” he added with a scowl.

“Like I'm dying to have you in my eyesight? Sure. Pleasure to meet you too, uncle Lucy,” I snapped back sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

This seemed to piss him off even more. Aaron let out a low whistle, which earned him another swift smack from Luciano.

Poor boiiii!

“Ouch!”Aaron yelled, rubbing his head ruefully.

“Watch it,” Luciano snarled at him before moving to leave, only to be stopped by Grandpa's stern voice.

“Luciano De'Luca, get your ass back in that seat,” he commanded sharply, pinning him with a fierce glare. Luciano cursed under his breath but sat back down reluctantly.

“I'm Damon, and 23,” the muscular boy with striking pale blue eyes spoke up next. He is definitely a gym rat.

Damon? Damon Salvatore? I kept my laugh to myself.

Not just him, though; they all had impressive musculature and tattoos inked across their skin.

“I'm Silas, 29,” the oldest of the brothers introduced himself simply.

Silas? Seriously? Now we have a doppelganger too.

Ok! We have two sets of triplets. The first one includes Luciano, Damon, and Silas, who are satanic bipolar heirs. The second group has varied, from nerdy to mamabear to kid on a sugar rush. And then my very cold father of the year.

If I can survive a week with them, I might just make it through the next three years, until I turn eighteen.

“I'm Evelyn, as you all know,” I said, waving my hand with exaggerated flair.

“Hii Eve,” Aaron replied, a smug grin spreading across his face as he waved back. I already like him.

I giggled uncontrollably like a giddy schoolgirl, overcome with a sudden joy. It had been so long since someone was genuinely happy and excited to see me. The sound of my own laughter felt foreign yet comforting—a reminder that I am still capable of feeling such lightness after swimming in darkness.

“Well, it's getting late; why don't you get some sleep? You must be tired, princess,” Grandpa said, a soft smile gracing his lips.

When was the last time someone had shown such care and affection for my wellbeing? As he gazed at me fondly, I was flooded with conflicting emotions.

Confusion: I really had no idea what I'd done to deserve him looking at me that way, with admiration instead of disgust. That's what happens when people have looked down on you like dirt your whole life.

Longing—how I wished to freeze this moment of being cherished. Even my own mother never looked at me that way. And it's started to terrify me.

Sadness: would this feeling last, or would he and everyone else also turn cold when they realize I am undeserving of love?

“Like hell,” I muttered unsteadily, and on cue, a yawn escaped my lips against my will.

“You didn't had dinner; you shouldn't go to bed on an empty stomach. Eat something first,” my dearest Foty chided gently.

“I'm not really hungry,” I whined. All I want is to collapse into bed.

“What? You can't go to sleep with an empty stomach; tell me what you want to eat, and I'll make it,” Xavier said, ready to jump into action.

Aw, what a mama bear!

“I'm really not hungry,” I pleaded, giving my best puppy dog eyes. That tactic never fails.

“Don't give me those puppy eyes,” he scolded, half glaring at me and half looking away.

“What? I didn't do anything." I gasped dramatically at the picture of pure innocence.

“Fine, but you must have some orange juice before you sleep. It's non-negotiable,” he replied firmly, already heading towards the kitchen.

“Orange juice? Seriously, who the fuck drinks juice right before bed?”

Everyone stifles a smile at my outburst. Aaron laughed loudly at my misfortune.

“He's a doctor,” he offered with a shrug.

“That bit of information makes me want to run for the hills,” I deadpanned.

I grabbed Aaron's hand and dragged him upstairs, though the mother trucker is so freaking heavy that it was a struggle. But he let me pull him along anyway.

“Which room is mine?” I asked.

“Upstairs,” he replied simply. I didn't waste a minute before bounding up the stairs, their laughter trailing behind me from the kitchen.

Fuckity Clowns- 

“This one,” Aaron said, pointing to the black door with gold embroidery.

“We really don't know your taste, so it's pretty plain, but hey, we can go shopping, and you can decorate however you want,” he offered kindly.

I pay attention to the room. The bedroom is fit for a princess. Like literally. The walls are painted a serene shade of mint green, like the fresh leaves of spring. Billowy silver curtains framed the large bay window, letting in a soft glow from outside.

In the center sat a four-poster bed with a luxurious silver canopy, piled high with fluffy pillows. The hardwood floor is dotted with plush rugs in shades of green and silver. A white desk stood in the corner, decorated with jars of colored pens and a small vase of flower pots. A silvery chandelier hung from the high ceiling, casting a warm glow over the space.

“It's gorgeous,” I breathed, smiling at Aaron gratefully.

“I'm just glad you're finally home. We're all so happy to have you back, even if we didn't know you were out there all these years,” he said warmly, laughing a little at the end. unleashing a flood of tangled emotions I could scarcely make sense of.

“Yeah, me too,” I lied easily.

It's hard to decipher my scattered emotions. But another part recoils, struggling to reconcile their care with my own conflicted state of mind. Some days I felt too raw and exposed, like a nerve. Other times I am numb, lost in a haze where feelings can't penetrate.

“Goodnight, Eve,” he said, immediately pulling me into a big bear hug. When was the last time someone hugged me so tenderly? I clung to it greedily, a starving beggar granted a scrap.

Tears pricked at my eyes, and I had to blink them back. Slowly and hesitantly, I wrapped my arms around him, returning the comfort he so freely gave. For now, I allowed myself to bask in it, pushing back the storm inside.

"Goodnight, Roonie Bear," I replied, giving him a nickname too.

“I might just cry; you gave me a nickname! This is the best,” he squealed dramatically, and I couldn't help but laugh at his endearing dorkiness.

After he left, I collapsed onto the plush bed. It was cloud-like in its softness and comfort. I sprawled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling like a weirdo as I let the exhaustion wash over me. Despite sleeping on the plane, I am still bone-tired.

I surrendered to the darkness, slipping into sleep. I was half asleep, my senses dulled, but I still registered someone entering the room. The covers were tucked around me, and a gentle kiss was pressed to my forehead.

“I'm so glad I found you, baby.” The scent of winter mint and comforting warmth enveloped me, making me feel almost safe. Like, nothing could ever hurt me here.

But was it too soon to think that? Only time will tell, I guess.